


How To Wash a Templar

by barbex



Series: Out of the shadow, into the mess [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Inquisitor Carver Hawke, Merrill in DA:I, Tent Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex
Summary: What happens in the tents of the Inquisition camps?Well, in my fic Lost Templar in Skyhold, Merrill and Carver, who happens to be the Inquisitor, are finally united and disappear into a tent in chapter 16. Here's what happens in that tent.





	How To Wash a Templar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/gifts).

> This little sidefic ties into the storyline of [Lost Templar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705711/chapters/45686959) between chapter 16 and 17. 
> 
> What happens in Inquisition tents, stays in Inquisition tents, right?

* * *

* * *

The tent flap falls down behind Carver and his eyes need a moment to adjust to the darkness. Merrill's silhouette is a shadow in front of him and he senses her more than he sees her. He can feel her presence, his templar powers reacting to her magic with a pull in his gut. 

A bright light glows where her hand is and grows like a flower opening in the sun. He should fear this, be vigilant about her power, like they had taught him in the Gallows. But Carver trusts her. With his life, if it ever comes to that.

The light flies apart into hundreds of little flicks of light, like glowing insects scattering in a gust of wind. They float upwards, bumping against the tarp over his head. It's a beautiful dance of light and illuminates the tent enough to see.

Merrill steps up to him, the lights sparkling like stars in her eyes. "Ma vhenan, come here, let me kiss you." 

She stands on her tiptoes and he rushes towards her, way too eager, almost pushing her over with the force of their connection. 

"Sorry," he says, reining himself in but she grabs his head and pulls him back to her. 

"Why do you apologize for kissing me?" She smiles, the light reflecting in her eyes. "As if you're bothering me. You don't, you know?" Her kiss is just as forceful as his attempt was, hungry, eager, desperate. Her fingernails scrape over the breastplate of his armor. "Get this off. All of it."

He grins, already pulling at buckles. "And you?" 

"I'll be faster."

He lifts the breast- and backplate over his head and places it carefully on the ground as Merrill pulls apart the knots on the sash around her hips. 

She slips out of her armor, pulling the maille over her head and kicking the shoes off her feet. With another quick pull, she gets rid of the other layers of clothes and rolls down the soft leggings. 

Carver still has his undershirt and pants on but his hands freeze midway when he looks at Merrill. "Maker. You're so beautiful."

Her dark hair, longer now than it was in Kirkwall, falls softly on her shoulders, framing the vallaslin on her face like a picture. The little lights float around her, as if they also want to take a closer look at her. Her eyes sparkle, reflecting the lights. She smiles at him and slides her hands under his shirt. "I want to see you too."

Carver pulls the shirt over his head, almost ripping it in his hurry. The sparkles under the tarp light up brighter, illuminating their bodies.

"By the creators," Merrill says with a breath, "look at you." She strokes over his shoulders, down his arms. "You've gotten even stronger."

It emboldens him to hear the adoration in her voice. He takes a step closer to her but she holds up her hand. 

"But you stink, vhenan."

Now he smells it too, the ghastly odor of grime, sweat and demon guts, all of it many days old. "Yes, sorry, there hasn't really been time to wash myself in the last three... four... five days?"

"I thought so," Merrill says with a smug grin. She turns to a bowl of water and shoots a small lighting bolt into it.

Carver smiles, he always loved Merrill's casual use of magic, it feels like home. He grew up in a house of fireballs heating water and ice spells keeping food fresh. 

When Merrill washes his shoulders, the cloth is hot and the water rises as steam from his skin.

"It's so hot."

Merrill holds up her finger. "The lighting bolt makes everything very hot. I could even grill a rabbit with it but it's difficult, the last time I tried that, it burned right up. I could only nibble on its ears." She wipes over his neck and down his chest, rinsing the cloth in the bowl in between. "I thought a fireball would be too bright. People would come running into our tent to rescue you."

She stretches up to wash his face and wipes over his hair with the cloth. Her smile is easy but it pains Carver in his heart to know how even she has to be careful to not get caught with her magic.

Her magic should be natural, a part of the fabric of this world. 

"Turn around," she says and he dutifully turns so that she can wash his back. She wipes him down, washing and rinsing, the washcloth staying hot. She moves down to his bottom, caressing his butt cheeks in such a way that he almost utters a moan.

"I know you like this," Merrill says and he can hear her smiling. "You don't need to hide that from me."

Carver groans quietly, they haven't even done anything yet and he's already hard and aching for her. "I don't want to sound like a nug in heat."

"You don't, vhenan, not to me." She rubs a special place on his back. "Maybe like a mabari in heat." She giggles, giving his mabari tattoo another wipe. Dipping the cloth back once more into the bowl, she wipes down his legs, all the way to his feet. "Turn back around now."

He does as she said and his breath gets caught in his throat. She kneels on a towel on the floor, looking up to him with a smile. Her soft lips are right where his penis is pointing straight forward. She grins and wraps the warm cloth around his erection, wiping and rubbing up and down, at last softly cleaning his balls. After another dip into the bowl, she wipes the cloth along his shaft and gently pushes down his foreskin to clean the head.

Carver moans, swaying on his feet. "Oh holy void, Merrill, that feels..."

"Good?"

"Fuck yes."

She leans forward and kisses the tip. Carver's stops breathing. With a mischievous grin she looks up to him and wraps her lips around the tip, her tongue dipping against it. She sucks, the tip of his penis disappearing between her lips and Carver hisses through his teeth.

"Andraste's arse, Merrill, you keep doing that and this will be over way too quickly."

"Oh no," she calls out, "we can't have that, can we?" She gets up and presses herself against him. His erection is trapped between their naked bodies and she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

Suckling on his lower lip, Merrill lowers herself down on her feet and takes a step back. "Now you have to wash me."

Carver shakes his head. "You can't possibly be dirty."

"Oh, but I'm filthy," she says. "Probably even worse than you." 

"Some people say that elves don't sweat at all."

"Well, all the elves l know _ do _ sweat," Merrill says with her head laid to the side. "Maybe you should find out for yourself."

He arms himself with the washcloth and wrings it out in the water. "The water is a bit cold now."

Merrill grins and another tiny lighting bolt dances into the bowl. He dips the washcloth into the hot water and washes her upper body. Rinsing the cloth out again, he wipes over her face and hair. Wrapping the cloth around his finger, he follows the intricate lines of her Vallaslin, slowly, circling her eyes. 

Carver kneels down and wets the cloth again. He slides it over Merrill's brown skin, the soft curve of her hips, down her legs to her precious feet. Oh, how he loves her feet, soft on the top but sturdy and rough underneath from walking barefoot on most days. He takes extra care to wash them, having her sit down and set her foot on his bent leg to wash between her toes. 

"Oh," she squeaks, "that tickles."

He rinses the cloth out again and looks up to her. They both smile knowingly and Merrill leans back on the cot and lets her legs fall open. Like a present, her folds open up for him, glistening in the light of the floating sparkles. Carver sets the washcloth over her mons and wipes down. When he reaches her labia lips, she lets out a sigh and throws her head back. He washes her carefully, gently wiping between creases and folds and watches her for any sign of discomfort. When he circles the sensitive nub, still protected by its natural hood, Merrill whimpers, biting her lip. 

Carver puts the washcloth aside and lowers himself down between her knees, ignoring his erection rubbing against the towel on the floor. He leans forward and places a kiss on her clitoris, listening to her happy gasp. 

"Yes, please," she whispers.

Emboldened by her reaction, he uses the flat of his tongue to lick a slow trail from her vulva up to her clitoris. She moans, and he repeats the move until her moans turn into breathy sighs. Now he kisses her nub again and then licks a slow circle around it. 

Tension ripples in waves through her body, her fingers clenching in the blankets and at last she falls back, thrusting her hips against his face. With renewed focus he keeps on licking her, determined to have her come on his tongue. 

It only takes a few more licks from him and Merrill's whole body tenses, her breath coming in gasps and she presses her fist to her mouth to muffle a cry as she comes. He licks her threw her orgasm, her taste like honey on his tongue until she sags down with a sigh. 

She sits up and kisses him, pulling at his shoulders. "Come here."

He follows her gladly, letting himself get pulled onto the cot. She spreads her legs wide, welcoming him. She kisses him again, hungry, demanding, a demand that has him scramble to sate, to give her what she wants. 

Feeling her skin against his own, he guides his erection into her with one hand, holding his weight above her with the other. He tries to be careful, to go slow, maybe tease her a little but she's having none of that. With a thrust of her hips she takes him in and she cries out in joy. She pulls him tight, melding against his body, her legs crossing on his back and all conscious thoughts fall from his mind. 

Even with him on top, she is the one guiding him, demanding, making him feel stronger and more alive than ever. Her eyes shine, she gasps with every thrust of his hips, meeting him with her own, holding him, clinging to him, whispering words he doesn't understand in his ears. He falls into her embrace, his climax rushing through him much too soon and he fights to keep his eyes open, to see her eyes sparkle as he comes.

His mind comes back to sparkling lights dancing around them and Merrill drawing soft circles between his shoulder blades with her fingertips. He scoots to the side, giving her more room to breathe but she holds him tight.

"Am I crushing you?" Carver asks.

"No, vhenan, I'm fine."

He brushes the hairs sticking to her face away and caresses her vallasin. "Merrill..."

She smiles, looking at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"I love you."

"Ar lath ma, vhenan," she says and smiles even brighter.

"What does that mean?" 

"It means "I love you, my heart'."

"Vhenan means 'my heart'?" 

"Yes?"

He pushes his body up on his elbows, to look at her. "But... but you've been calling me _ vhenan _ forever."

Her smile changes somehow, she's looking much wiser all of a sudden. "Vhenan, I always knew. I always knew that you were my heart."

"But I didn't even know..." Carver sits up and wipes his face. The mark on his hand sizzles again, reacting to his emotions. That Carver back then had been stupid, hormonal, too strong for his own good, not quite a teenager anymore and an idiot on legs, who was constantly trying to get out of his sister's shadow. And he had joined the templars, despite his massive crush on an elven mage with a smile that made the world brighter because why the fuck not. Why not make his life even more complicated. "I thought you wanted my sister, like everybody did, all the fucking time." 

"Carver, vhenan," Merrill sits up and puts her hands on his cheeks. "I only saw _ you. _ And I cried when you joined the templars because I thought that you hated all mages now. And then you came to my house and I was afraid you would take me to the Gallows." 

"No!"

She kisses him to quiet him. "Shhh, don't let the guards hear you, they'll come running in to rescue you."

"I never..."

"I know that now," Merrill says, wiping her thumb over his lower lip. "I would have frozen you into an icicle, just so you know. But you drank my tea and gave water to the Vhenadahl and then I knew." She presses a soft kiss to his lips. "I knew you were my vhenan."

Carver pulls her into a hug and presses his nose into her neck. "I will never leave you, I promise."

"And neither will I," she says, her smile making his world bright again. 

  



End file.
